#barsen’thor

[lanabenikosdoormat]

lanabenikosdoormat can not be stopped in her quest to post the worst content ever imagined

[aeskanera]

Old Republic O/PCs:

The Scorekeeper’s Herald, also known by the Jedi title “Barsen’thor”

[krisslegacy]

having a freak out i was JUST thinking this

They should bring back the Barsen’thor title specifically to give it to Avar Kriss.

[cinlat]

“Help me understand.” The woman’s voice is calm, barely above a whisper but, Caldus feels it in his soul. She emanates peace and serenity, two things he’s been seeking for the better part of three years. Maybe his entire life.

The young Cathar sitting to Caldus’s left fidgets, then seems to remember himself and goes still. He’s a skinny thing, all arms and spindly limbs compared to Caldus’s bulk. There’s a gleam in the boy’s flame colored eyes that warns Caldus that he might not be as young as he looks.

“Let’s start with your name.” Hers is Jedi Master Notiac Carlo. She is soft, colored like a summer sunset of Caldus’s homeworld. Her curls drape gracefully over slim shoulders, but there is an air of power about her. It’s different from the Sith. They are bravado and rage. The Force presence that Caldus senses in Master Carlo is like a warm breeze over a field of flowers. It could gust into violence, but for now, it is calm.

“My name is Caldus,” he begins, staring down at the helmet in his hands. It was all he managed to grab before fleeing Korriban. He couldn’t bear to part with it, nor could he put it on. This helmet, with its artfully swept forward tusks and intimidating crest symbolizes everything he hates; that he’s afraid of. It also symbolizes friendship born in the fires of trauma and inside jokes; a small kindness in a sea of madness. He is proud to own it, but he’s ashamed that he left the giver behind.

Taking a shuddering breath, Caldus forges on. “I am—was—a Sith acolyte awaiting to be chosen by a master. They found me on a docking platform at the edge of the galaxy and stole me for their own. When I met the Jedi captive, my task was to feed him information that would influence the positioning of Republic military forces to open the way for a Sith invasion.”

“You didn’t do that,” Master Carlo says, her head tilted to one side. She wears a mask over her eyes. It’s simple, yet elegant, with pearls and beads accentuating the lines of her face.

Caldus can’t hold her gaze. Though her eyes remain hidden from him, he can feel her attention. Instead, he rubs his thumb over a scratch in his hamlet’s surface. He wonders idly why they let him keep this one, with it’s sharp points and menacing edges, but took the other. “I did. Then, I decided to go with him.”

Events had moved quickly after that. Caldus and the Jedi prisoner snuck onto a transport under the guise of an escort mission. Then found an escape pod, and the Jedi activated a beacon after they had drifted far enough. Master Carlo and her Padawan had answered the call with a contingency of political statesmen and a full platoon of special forces soldiers. Caldus had not resisted when they surrounded him.

“Do you wish to join the Jedi?” She asks.

It’s the question Caldus knew would come, yet he still doesn’t have an answer. He had joined the docking crews who flew merchants to distant colonies to pedal their wares to get away from Orsimer Prime. He can’t crawl back to his tribe as a failure. They would accept him, but Caldus’s pride would forever keep his eyes to the ground. Better to stay out here and find his way. At least with the Jedi, he wouldn’t be forced to murder innocents to cater the favor of madmen.

Caldus tucks the helmet into his lap and looks up at the woman. His half-helm had been confiscated upon his arrest, leaving his unique features exposed. Neither the woman nor the Cathar appeared concerned by the tusks jutting from his lower lip or the claws tipping his fingers. He supposed the Cathar, at least, wasn’t intimidated by those.

“Would I be welcome?” Caldus counters after the silence drags on for too long. “I was trained to be Sith, and I am liable to stand out in your ranks.”

“Would you prefer not to?” Master Carlo holds out one hand to her Padawan, Caldus’s half-helm appearing seemingly from nowhere. His fingers itch to grab it as it hovers into her waiting grasp. A test, most likely.

Clearing his throat, Caldus nods. “I prefer a certain level of anonymity.”

“Then you’ll have it.” The woman holds out the helm.

Caldus hesitates, reaching out with his senses for any sign of a trap. When he finds none, he carefully lifts it from her hand and places it over his head. The familiar brush of fabric against the bridge of his nose eases some of the dread sitting in his chest. With his eyes and large ears hidden, he could pass for any number of large species known to the greater galaxy.

“I will not murder with the Force,” Caldus states, emboldened by the return of his flimsy shield. Before the Sith, he used his abilities to make work easier on the dock. He shifted heavy cargo and performed amusing tricks. The Sith wanted him to turn that gift into a weapon against nulls. There was no honor in it. Caldus would fight with his sword, a blaster, or his fists. But he refuses to wield against another living being ever again.

“We would not presume to infringe on your religious customs.” This from the Padawan who now leaned forward with his forearms braced on his thighs. An intricate pattern of darker lines marks the fur around his eyes, nose, and mouth. Perhaps, after some time around beings less humanoid than the ones in the Sith ranks, Caldus might be comfortable baring his uniqueness to the galaxy too.

Even with most of his face covered, Caldus’s surprise must be evident because Master Carlo chuckles and Caldus is momentarily distracted by the beauty of the sound. There is no malice in it, just the amusement of a woman who has seen far stranger things than him. “Kadu has made a point to research our more obscure neighbors. He wishes to be a healer, and thus he learns everything he can about the races he might encounter. Your kind is known to us, Caldus. You are welcome and safe.”

Caldus nods, his throat suddenly too tight to speak. Only one person has taken the time to learn about him in recent years, and he isn’t sure whether it is because she was working an angle or because they are friends—were friends, he supposes. It is unlikely that she’ll forgive him for abandoning her.

The woman stands from the stool she’d placed in front of Caldus for their conversation and stretches her back. From this angle, he sees the signs of age around her mouth and under her chin. She too is older than she appears. “If you do not wish to be the aggressor,” she begins, tipping the mask in his direction. “How do you feel about being the shield?”

“Like, protecting people?” It’s a stupid question, but Caldus needs a clear answer before he agrees.

Master Carlo nods, a smile pulling at her lips like he will be a particularly fascinating puzzle. It’s Kadu who speaks, though. “Who do you think would be best to teach him?” Those flame bright eyes turn towards Caldus, weighing him with experience that Kadu looks too young to have. “Shielding is tricky, but if you are willing to put in the work—”

“I will,” Master Carlo answers before Kadu finishes his sentence. “You will soon be leaving me to practice with the medical universities. I have the flexibility for a second Padawan if we play our cards right.”

Caldus’s attention bounces back and forth between his new allies while they discuss his future. Hope tugs at his ribs, urging him to take this chance. He’s escaped the Sith, if things turn sour, he can escape the Jedi as well. “I agree,” Caldus blurts into their conversation before he can talk himself out of it. He’s lost out here with nowhere else to go anyway. Maybe this can be the way he atones for the wrongs he’s committed.

The Sith taught him to destroy. Now, Caldus will learn to preserve.

*Caldus is my new guy based on a fanmade race called Orcolans. I didn’t make them, but so much work and love obviously went into their creation that it felt wrong not to use it after I stumbled across them. Obviously, swtor doesn’t have that option, so Caldus got a fancy half-helm so that he could still show off his lovely beard. Eventually, he’ll move to a full helmet to avoid stares and awkward conversations.

**He was 19 years old when he escaped the Sith and fell into the Barsen’thor’s lap quite literally. This probably won’t turn into a full story, but be a fun little world for me to play in. It’s an offshoot of the Sith Fynta AU. So…and AU of an AU?

***This was meant to be a 500 word quick drabble….it grew.

[elfroot-and-laurels]

This galaxy is worth a fight.

Ibri’nox’xa, Barsen’thor, Consular, Peace Light.

[fleeting-sanity]

[ Previous Entry ] 💌 [ Read @ Ao3 ] 💌 [ Chapters Index ]

Thank you to @swtorramblings for proof-reading!

He slept for the longest time in his entire life, dreamless. His body was still weak; in this year alone, there were too many times where he had to be rescued and nursed back to life. They kept insisting on repaying his kindness that way, which took him back to his own words of extending compassion to others. His eyes stared at his foot, and he told himself to not waste this chance.

But his senses told him that things were bad out there. He wanted to leave Dantooine as soon as possible, believing himself to be fully cured and fit to resume duty. However, he received a surprise guest early the next day.

“Hey. Just wanted to stop by to check on you. I heard from your sister.”

“Thank you. I’m touched you thought of me. Um… how are you doing?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? I’m fine, I just found a lead on my objective. Also, Arn’s going to be Knighted next week, just wanna tell you that.”

“That’s amazing! I’ll be sure to attend and give my commendations.”

Tau chuckled. “Look, don’t worry about it. I’ll try to holo you if you can’t make it.”

It always warmed his head whenever he was around Tau’s presence, for reasons unknown. Perhaps it was the way she carried herself, or her beautiful features. Further into their conversation, Tau looked like she just realized something. She hesitated for a second before delivering the news.

“Have you watched the broadcast? I can hardly believe that Vaylin is actually alive, after all this time. But I’m glad she won’t be a problem anymore. She and her brother might be sentenced harshly.”

To say that Riornivo was gobsmacked was an understatement. His reaction surprised her, and they were both speechless for a few seconds. The Barsen’thor snapped out of it, embarrassed by the figurative potential of a fly entering his gaping mouth. “I, um… she’s… alive?”

“You seem… surprised.” Tau could sense that wasn't the right word, but asking more felt like prying. The atmosphere turned awkward, when they were mingling with mirth just then. She bid farewell to her fellow Jedi after stating her intention of resuming her mission.

He had to take a moment to sit and digest the information presented to him. That was what his senses were telling him, he thought. Vaylin’s anonymity was never promised permanence, but he didn’t think it would be revealed this soon. Anxiety scoured his psyche, wanting to meet her immediately. There was another thought of how it came to this, which led him to phoning his twin brother. The first few dials failed with a busy signal.

“Red.”

“Can we talk later? I’m-”

“Please, Red. I know-” “I know you know. I think it’s best if we talk in person. I’ll come there tomorrow, don’t go anywhere.”

Rionnic quickly ended the call, feeling unprepared to talk about the situation. He was fortunately saved from follow up calls by his sister knocking on Riornivo’s door. Vyria immediately sighed upon looking at her brother’s facial expression. Before he could utter a single word however; “Hold on. Just… hold on a minute okay? Let me go get my tea real quick!”

Vyria returned as fast as she went. Seeing her face meek and frowny made Riornivo rein back on his intense desire for the truth. This would be a calm and rational conversation–the basics of being a Jedi. 

“Yeah, alright, okay, you’re going to talk about her. Look, before anything, I haven’t been on Odessen since I got here. This is all I’ve heard from Red. She’s safe with her brother. She turned herself in, no casualties–no fuss. I think her Mom’s with the grandkids. Uhh… what else is there…”

“Thank you. Please be at ease, Snowy. I see that you’re quite flustered.”

His observation was confirmed by her taking a big gulp from her cup. “Oh, oh yeah… one more thing. She uh, she doesn’t wanna see anyone. Including you.”

Riornivo nodded. Frankly, his reaction wasn’t what Vyria was expecting.

“Huh… okay, here's some advice you didn’t ask for,” as Vyria’s index finger shot up, her face relaxing. “Maybe this time, you should heed her request–leave her alone, and don’t play into your feelings for her, okay? Remember the Code.”

“W-what feelings? I’m just concerned–didn’t you say Arcann was there too?”

“Ugh, you’re so bad at lying. But you reaaaallly have to listen. Give her space and time,” and then Vyria got up from her seat to leave; “Oh, and… could you uh, bake me a Bestine Threeberry pie again? The one with the golden sauce.”

He gave his sister an affirmation with a chuckle, but not a second later it reminded him of the taste of Vaylin’s cooking. His smile faded. He couldn’t help but feel as if she was plunged back into the worst time of her life all over again, undoing the progress they both have been through. Whether the latter part was true or not, all he could do was nothing, and it corroded him inside.

Perhaps he should write her a letter. With ink.

The first few drafts stacked the refuse bin, but then he remembered to not leave any trace of correspondence between them. Every letter started with an apology. What he wanted was to clarify his feelings towards her, but the concept sounded a little too illogical for him. He tried rationalizing the resistance towards it by two fronts: that it was not what Vaylin needed at that time of strife, and he wanted to keep it to himself. Vaylin deserved more than a man such as him. He kept delaying finishing the letter, as life kept borrowing him away from her.   

But the letter was smuggled in anyway, now in Vaylin’s hands. She kept staring at it, almost going a full day without opening it.

For a cell so completely anti-Force, the lack of intense surveillance perplexed her. Was the Alliance undermanned or under-funded? But it was definitely better than her cell in Nathema. She recalled how there was no privacy inside the glass-walled cage–just another factor designed to break her will. There were no taunts, no torture, no experiments, no conditioning. It was more than she deserved, she thought. 

There were no visitors allowed as per her request, except for Serrus, who handed her the letter. 

Dear Vaylin,

I hope this letter finds you well, despite your circumstances. I want to apologize for the way we parted ways that day. I wish things would have been different… You’ve been an invaluable lesson for me, and I don’t want it to stop. But if you wish to not see me, I respect that. If it’s the opposite instead, I will eagerly fly to your side. You can always confide in me about anything.

Your nieces are healthy and loved. I visited Aryuni and Senya the other day. Understandably, they were deprived of the spirit and drive they once had, but I’m going to help them through it. I’ll make sure they’d always have everything they need without assuming Arcann’s role. Speaking of him, we talked recently about logistics and the reason behind your decision. Without talking to you directly, I can only take Arcann’s words with discretion. We’re working together with your defense team for the trial.

I know you want to be responsible for your actions, but I can’t help believing that you deserve compassion, or another chance living the life free of your father’s dominion and isolation. 

I apologize if my words offend you… or come across as patronizing. You are a strong, independent, insightful, and talented woman. The more I get to know you, the more I admire you. I treasure the times we spent together, and I thank you for being the person you are.

Warmest regards,

Riornivo

She scanned the letter repeatedly to look for something more obvious. It left her feeling rejected yet again, it was as if he was saying nothing while skirting around the subject they should be discussing between them. Of course, the news about her nieces and the outside world was a relief to hear, but it was nothing Serrus had not already relayed to her. She crumpled then threw the letter, annoyed at his empty yet honeyed words. It was unexplainable, but she didn’t feel abandoned this time. The people who mattered to her were all in her corner, and she was sure they’d understand her condition of wanting solitude. Especially that stupid Jedi.

She picked the letter back up, straightened it and kept it inside a cabinet.

Shortly after, a group of Knights and droids delivered additional amenities for her. Even without looking inside their helmets, she could tell that they were on high alert, some nervous, some afraid of her presence. The only words exchanged were that of the Paladin stating their purpose then excusing themselves.

There was an easel with art supplies, a holonet receiver, some gardening equipment, and a datapad. Most of these objects could hypothetically be used as tools for escaping, and she was sure Rionnic knew of that. But from her point of view, this generosity felt unusual for someone like him. Was it his twin brother instead? 

She ignored the new additions to her cell and went to sleep.

From the next day onwards, there were interrogations after another. She mostly spaced out during them, unable to disperse that foggy layer made of his words. Another part of her desperately reached around the darkness for the remorse she should be feeling. 

“Vaylin? Are you listening?”

“It was Arcann who ordered it. I’m just an observer.”

“And what about Voss? Exactly six months and twenty one days after the… five worlds.”

“That was me.”

She admitted to every single crime and atrocities. That wasn’t a popular move with her defense team, but they were aiming for damage reduction anyways. Those discussions with them were droll to her–she wanted to get it over with while leaning towards capital punishment. An instance stood out to her though; one of her lawyers had a wild idea of her seeking asylum in the Empire. He pitched the idea as a gamble: that maybe she would be feared and respected over there, instead of facing consequences. Another lawyer, a Neimoidian woman named Britu, laughed at that.

“You’re kidding, right? Don’t waste our visitation time. Focus on our case!”

She wouldn’t want that anyways; she’s had enough of being used as a weapon. When asked about Arcann’s choice, the lawyers responded by working towards a life sentence. Understandable, as his twin daughters still needed their father. The next days proceeded as usual for her; utilizing the tools she was given with. She painted an abstract piece depicting broken wings representing light amidst the blood and darkness.

Deep down, she felt a vague unfulfillment looming over her heart. 

She waited until there was a break from building her case to utilize the tools given to her for escaping. The note she left stating that she would return to her cell after a few days would probably be ignored, but that’s their problem. All of her escape attempts failed at Nathema, but Odessen felt like it was intentionally unguarded. Was this a ploy of the evil twin? To make her punishment even worse, perhaps?

Being a new master of disguises, she successfully got off the planet by sneaking into an aid shipment and landed on Dubrillion. The feeling of distributing aid to the people she massacred was indescribable. Her hands were shaking. A child amputee was among the ones receiving food from her hands. The girl smiled and thanked her.

“Auntie? Why are your hands shaking?”

It wasn’t just her hands, but her voice as well. “U-uh I, I just… haven’t had b-breakfast yet! Don’t worry about me!”

It wasn’t as if she hadn't seen an amputee before–the example was one of her own blood. But the sight and smell of the destruction did something different to her this time. The way the child hurdled back to wherever she came from, limping and alone. Her co-workers ushered her to resume the distribution upon seeing her idle, but she couldn’t function well due to the overwhelming feeling. She tried defining what it was.  

She was scared of those victims. 

Soon it was break time for the Alliance crew. Her coworkers barely ate anything, and instead spent the time preparing for more aid and helping the restoration effort–the latter had the most participants of the Force-wielding nature, including her. Her Knight disguise allowed her to freely utilize the Force, but cautiously so as to not alert the others of her power. Brick by brick, she reconstructed some destroyed houses and infrastructures. While most of the Alliance personnel retreated to rest their tired bodies, she kept on going. Throughout the process, anxiety never loosened its grip on her. It didn’t matter how many buildings she helped to repair, the dread would not go away.

As the day turned to dusk, she was again approached by the girl from earlier. 

“Hi auntie… we’ve been watching you for so long. Would you want to join us and rest? Please? Aren’t you tired?”

The sweetness of the girl’s tone made her finally stop. When the girl escorted her with the hand on her remaining arm, it made her weak. It didn’t help that the girl almost resembled her twin nieces. She altered her voice as best as she could to ask for the girl’s name.

“My name’s Aulia. What’s yours?

“Um… Syl. You can call me Syl.”

She didn’t dare say a word throughout their short journey to the encampment. There she saw children playing joyfully despite their circumstances. Some Republic soldiers were cooking food en masse, some medics applying tourniquets, some were preparing for a funeral not far from there. 

“He survived initially–for almost a year... Which is remarkable despite the lack of resources we have to help him. The last of his family. But we’ve let him know that he’s loved and remembered…”

The hushed eulogy she overheard distracted her from Aulia who handed her a bread. She apologized sheepishly, but couldn’t think of an excuse as to why she wouldn’t eat the bread yet. Undoing her disguise there would be like a death sentence, especially with how she was careful to stay in Aulia’s good graces. She prayed that the child would buy her next excuse: that she had to answer nature's call first. Luckily, it worked.

She planned to eat but not before finding a spot away from any eyes on her. 

Taking off her Knight helmet, she began eating the bread, which was stale. Every few bites, she kept rotating her head around, paranoid and jittery. It was such an effort to calm herself down–the helmet made things worse, but she had to put it back on before anyone saw her. 

But someone saw her.

[callmeaiden]

THE LAST PIECE - a SWTOR story

Three years after the Zakuul Invasion, Jedi Knight and the Barsen'thor, Zsira Nazo, is hiding from Emperor Arcann's forces. Unexpectedly, she receives a message from a person she wasn't sure she'd ever hear from again.

She stepped out of the prom. “What a strange place,” she thought, as she saw the 'landscape' of Asylum. A haven for the escapees from Zakuul, and yet so close to it. 

Zsira, being high-placed in the Zakuul Most Wanted ranking, should not have even been taking the risk. Yet, here she was. She never imagined it would be so easy to literally abandon everything after just one message from her. Three years since they last talked, three years since the Eternal Empire Invasion, and Zsira still thought about her, wondering what she had been doing. Is she safe? Is she planning something? Did she give up? As it turned out, the first option was correct. Zsira should have never doubted.

She started walking towards the meeting point. Hood on the head, mask on the face, Zsira hoped that nobody would recognise her. Asylum might be a safe place, but one can never be too safe. 

She had her lightsaber hidden in the bag, with only a small blaster hooked on her belt. It was a gift from her brother, but Zsira was not very good at shooting, so she had hoped for this day to be calm.

‘I need you, Zsira; there is no one else I would ask for this.’

Zsira wondered if it was real. If there really was not anybody else. She could think about a few other people. 

She came to the meeting point but did not see anybody unusual. Everybody looked the same, refugees, gangsters, not a soul to really trust. Then she felt it, that presence in the Force. Lana.

Zsira turned around. She saw her, similarly hidden under a hood and a mask. They looked at each other for a few seconds, silently not believing that it was happening. Then Lana moved her arm and gestured towards some narrow street. Zsira followed her there, and Lana opened a door and entered an empty room. Zsira did the same.

They uncovered their faces.

“I wasn’t sure you would come,” said Lana.

“Well, I did,” Zsira responded, “you said, you are planning something. That you want to save Ikar."

“So you don’t believe he is dead?”

“No. Though I had my doubts,” she said, “but I do believe that is not the only thing on your mind.”

Lana chuckled, “You know my mind well.”

Zsira smiled, and for the first time in three years looked Lana Beniko in the eyes. Lana did the same.

Silence was surrounding them. The last time they were looking at each other like this was on Ziost. Frowns on their faces. Lightsabers in hands. And the clear difference between them, that Zsira always tried to ignore. A Jedi and a Sith. There would always be something between.

Zsira turned her gaze on the floor, “So what are you planning?” she asked.

“There are many people that hate the Eternal Empire. They are, of course, mostly from our part of the galaxy, but there are even some Zakuulans."

“I thought Zakuul prospers, shouldn't they be glad?”

“Maybe, but some also see what Arcann has done to us. Such is the case with Koth, who you will meet soon.”

“I understand you want to build a… rebellion?”

“Exactly.”

“You are talking about the Republic, Empire, and Zakuulans?” Zsira questioned, “Do you think it will work?”

“Haven’t it worked with Revan?”

“Yes, but it was on a smaller scale, and—”

“And we had Ikar.” Lana interrupted, “A true leader, who already killed the Emperor twice and is a legend across the whole galaxy, including Zakuul.”

“And why do you need me?” asked Zsira.

Lana looked puzzled, like she had just heard the most ridiculous thing, “You, you are Zsira Nazo, a Barsen’thor.”

“Why does it matter? I am not as strong as you think. I already lost too much to all this. And there are so many more powerful people that you could ask for help.”

“But I asked you,” said Lana, “I don’t care about power and strength, Zsira. I  need  you.”

“But why?” asked Zsira, confused. “If you need help in rebelling and rescuing Ikar, you could ask Darth Imperius or Lady Wrath. They are much more capable than me.”

“Why won’t you believe that you are needed?”

“Because I gave up!” Zsira exclaimed, sitting down on the floor, “I do not know why I even came here.”

Lana looked at her, Zsira thought she would see disappointment on her face. But Lana was not disappointed, she was shocked. She sat down next to Zsira.

“It doesn’t change anything for me.” Lana said, “I still want you here.”

“Do you think about Ziost sometimes?” Zsira asked.

“What?”

“That was the only thing on my mind while I was getting here,” Zsira continued, “It should not be so heavy for me, should it? It seems like the whole world just forgot about it. I didn’t. I remember everything from that day. Every person I could not help. Every scream. Every kill. The planet — dead, after everything we have done to help. And I remember you there,” she looked at Lana, “How I disagreed with you, and how I was the first to pull out the lightsaber. And how it all just does not make any sense.”

“You are right,” said Lana, “it does not. And it was not your fault.”

“I know. But my mind sometimes disagrees with me.”

“Then I will remind you that you are right, every single day,” Lana responded, “You are extraordinary, Zsira. You were always like that for me. And I know that I will not be able to achieve anything without you. You are the most important piece; you are the one I need.

Zsira put her head on Lana’s shoulder. And so they sat like this for a while. And when they finally got up, Zsira did not ask any questions, and Lana did not give any answers. They just knew. Zsira might have given up, but she was still Zsira, and Lana got the last piece, her favourite one.

[witchpig-04]

The Battlemaster and the Barsen’thor

This is an illustration of two Star Wars: The Old Republic original characters; the one that looks like me is Arthurigan, (my Jedi Knight,) and the Twi’lek is Veltifa, (my friend Evie’s* Jedi Consular.)

This took forever! It started as a crappy pencil sketch made during an English lecture, then I created a blender scene to work out the composition and then create lighting and shape reference.

The final product you see here is a combination of 2D digital drawing+painting and 3D rendering; the characters are entirely 2D, while the background is largely 3D, with some 2D paintover to create motion trails etc.

*@ milfsenya on Instagram

[fernfrond-inks]

Elvira Gwandarae

Titles: Jedi Master, Barsen’thor, Paladin of House Organa.

Home Planet: Alderaan

Age:

About: Reserved and distant Elvira often acts as an anchor in times of hardship. She has a nack for gently telling the people want they need to hear, even if they don’t want to hear it.

Driven by insatiable need to know, and an aching sense of hope she follows the force with her ship the Visionary’s Resolve. Her journey has deepened her belief and understanding of the Jedi code. Though there are times when falls short of her own ideals, this is always something she struggles against.

Backstory: Elvira’s mother worked as a high end escort for Alderaan nobles and caught feelings for client from house Alde. Elvira was the result of this union though her mother elected not to tell the father or anybody else about Elvira. As she didn’t want to risk her child being taken away from her.

The first 6 years of Elvira’s life was with her mother. Where she learned manners and how to act professionally, as well as how to look nice. Then the Jedi order found her.

Because she was taken in a letter age she was always older than peers. This causes her to take on a mantle of maturity at a young age. She has a very strong connection to the force that makes her feel too connected to everything which leads to being overwhelmed. Elvira has a distinctly distant presence as if viewing events from afar as method of coping.

Fighting Style: Infiltration Shadow/?

She’s an infiltration shadow fighting the same way she negotiates by slightly nudging things in the direction she what them to go. Combat isn’t something that she rushes into but when she is fighting Elvira will give herself every possible advantage.

Her lightsaber form of choice is Niman, because of its versatility. Which for diplomat who never knows when a negotiation will go south is a must. It also the form that mixes the force with blade work best and provides more space for creativity. This some that Elvira values and the force heavily guides in combat so this style is very much an expression of that.

Elvira’s particular brand of Niman borrows some inspiration from Makashi. Not because she is skilled with form but because she hold an option that is most elegant of all the forms. This influence makes much better at one on one combat so much of her force work mid combat is forcing the enemy to face one at a time where she strongest.

Relationships:

Love Interest: Felix Iresso

Family:

Padawans: Nadia Grell (Force Bond)

Best Friends: Qyzen Fess, Felix Iresso.

Friends: Zenith, Tharan Cedrax, Holiday.

[relevant-url-incoming]

There is nothing quite like digging through things you've already written and discovering that all your favourites are just. about siblings. like this is because i've chosen to lean into it but oh my GOD. anyway revisiting Caibos and finally touching on Vyme for more than an intro post! because you know what's better than reuniting with your long-lost brother when one doesn't recognise the other because he was too young when they separated and the other doesn't recognise the one because he looks too old to be his baby brother. it's fine. i'm so normal about them.

At first Caibos thought the cave was empty.

“There,” Zenith said sharply. Caibos looked where he was looking as a shape stepped out of the shadows. He barely kept himself from grimacing. He should have noticed the Sith there.

“I take it you feared this was a trap,” said the Sith. He carefully removed his mask and hood, revealing a Sith with minimal ridges and a few fleshy tendrils hanging from his chin. The Sith smoothed a hand over his neatly gelled hair and surveyed Caibos and his friends critically.

“I mean Caibos no harm,” the Sith said gently. His eyes lingered on Caibos for a second with a flicker of confusion, but he kept searching.

“You expect me to believe that?” Caibos said.

The Sith looked back at Caibos with a cold frown.

“My news is for him,” he said sharply. “So where is he?”

“Right here,” Nadia snapped, putting a supportive hand on Caibos’ shoulder. He almost smiled, but the motion was lost in the confusion swirling inside him. Why wouldn’t the Sith believe him? He was clearly a Jedi, and everyone knew by now the Barsen’thor had Sith blood.

“I am the Barsen’thor,” Caibos said, gently nudging Nadia back with a look. They needed to project confidence and age here. “Whatever you have for me, they’ll hear anyway.”

“Don’t you dare pull this game on me,” the Sith snapped. It was as if a switch had flipped. The gentle, soft look in his eyes as he’d tried to persuade them changed in a second to blazing fury. Lightning played at the Sith’s fingertips, and he raised his hand. “Where is he?”

Caibos pulled his lightsabre, holding it defensively in front of his people.

“Right here,” he said again.

“Caibos is seventeen,” the Sith hissed. The lightning blasted from his hand, and Caibos barely managed to direct it to the ground between them. When the light dissipated, they both stood panting, glaring at each other.

“Eighteen, actually,” Caibos said. Maybe some of the electricity had gotten through, because he felt strangely giddy as he added, “Vyme.”

He had guessed right. Vyme stagged back, clutching his hands to his chest.

“No,” he said, looking from face to face as if for confirmation.

“You know him?” Felix said in an undertone. Zenith kept his blaster raised, aimed between Vyme’s eyes, but Caibos could tell Zenith was hanging on his response.

“Not really,” Caibos admitted softly. It wasn’t soft enough; Vyme flinched again.

“What happened?” he demanded. If Caibos had to guess, he was scrabbling for anger to cover his hurt. Callie was the same way.

“Nothing,” Caibos said.

“Are you kidding? You’ve got –“ Vyme took a step closer, then stopped as Zenith jerked his blaster demonstratively.

“Zenith,” Caibos murmured. Zenith’s jaw tightened.

“Maybe you know who he is, but that doesn’t mean we ought to trust him,” he said.

“Maybe if we finally get to hear why we’re here?” Felix suggested. His voice was casual, but he was no less tense than Zenith.

Caibos swallowed, pulling himself together. Confidence. Surety. They needed him to be the Barsen’thor. He didn’t dare glance back at Nadia; he didn’t know how she’d feel about his Sith brother. He didn’t know how he felt about it.

“Why did you ask to see me?” Caibos said. He knew what Callie would want. She’d want to hear that Vyme had come back for them. Caibos knew better than to believe it.

“Caloma,” Vyme said. “She’s in trouble.”

Caibos knew it was true. He’d known it since his birthday. That didn’t stop the bottom from dropping out of his stomach.

“Where is she?” he asked. “How do you know?”

“Because I saw her,” Vyme said. “On the Emperor’s ship.”

“The Sith Emperor?” Nadia repeated incredulously.

“He’s done something to her head,” Vyme said. “She was herself, but twisted. Obedient to him.”

“Where is his ship?” Caibos said.

Vyme opened his mouth, then hesitated.

“What will you do if I tell you what I know?”

“Why? Are you more worried about your precious Emperor than Caloma?” Caibos snapped. Felix gave him a sideways glance, and Nadia tried to reach for his hand, but he shook her off. They didn’t know Vyme. “Why did you really come here? After all this time, you’ve discovered you care after all? And of course, it’s not for me.”

He covered his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say that.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Caibos said, words spilling out of him faster than he could plan. He’d thought he’d lost his Imperial accent a long time ago, but now it came out in fits and starts, egged on by a voice he thought was no longer familiar. “You stayed behind and you left us. You chose the certainty of your awful little world over your brother –“

“Is that what Caloma told you?”

Vyme sounded strange. Empty, maybe. Perhaps Caibos had sucked up all the rage in the room and left him with nothing to respond with.

“No,” Caibos said. “She’s always making excuses for you. I learned to stop asking.”

“They almost caught us, Caibos,” Vyme said. “So I drew them away. I let them catch me alone.”

“No,” Caibos said. “No, I remember –“

“You were five,” Vyme said. “Do you remember begging me not to go? I do. Do you remember that it was in a cave, not the slave camp? That mother was nowhere near, and it was just you, me, and Caloma?”

“Sith lie,” Caibos said. It was a weak response and they both knew it. Vyme’s face softened fondly, and he stepped forward until he could reach for Caibos’ face. Zenith kept his blaster trained on Vyme, but he didn’t fire.

“I thought we would match when they punished me,” Vyme said, gently tapping his thumb to Caibos’ scar. “All three of us. And you’d be with me. I got this instead.”

He turned his head, letting Caibos get a good look at the network of thin, almost surgical scars across one side of his face. Caibos couldn’t think of anything to say. Vyme smiled and stepped back.

“Thirteen years and you’ve hated me all this time?”

“Jedi don’t hate,” Caibos said automatically.

“Ah,” Vyme said. “Then it must be the Sith blood in you.”

Caibos rolled his shoulders back, trying to summon the presence that always convinced people he was older.

“What happened to Caloma?” he asked firmly. Vyme sighed and nodded.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I only saw what I told you, and briefly. She was being watched by the Emperor’s Wrath himself.”

“Where is she, then? Where is the ship?”

Vyme frowned at him sternly, and he looked so much like Caloma that Caibos’ heart clenched.

“I’ll tell you what I know, but you cannot go off on your own,” he said. Caibos began to protest, and Vyme held up his hands. “Do as you please to the Emperor. But not alone. Will you take it to the Jedi? Promise me you won’t be a fool?”

“Master,” Nadia said. “He’s probably right.”

“If we can trust him,” Zenith said. “Which I highly doubt.”

“If this were a trap,” Vyme said. “I had ample time to spring it. You think a Sith Lord would bother sending you to the Emperor when killing the Barsen’thor myself could gain a lot of favour? I want Caloma safe. I want Caibos safe, too, though I’m smart enough to know when someone is working against me in that.”

The look he gave Caibos told him that Caibos was the ‘someone’ in question. Considering how coolly Vyme had just discussed killing him, Caibos felt justified in ignoring him.

“I still don’t like it,” Zenith said.

“And yet, you haven’t shot me,” Vyme said cheerfully. He lifted his arms. “Go on. Fire.”

“No,” Caibos said immediately, though even Zenith didn’t move. “I mean – you could come to Tython. Tell the Council what you know. You don’t have to stay with the Empire anymore. You can leave now.”

Come with me, he wasn’t brave enough to say.

Vyme laughed softly under his breath.

“You are… more than I ever hoped you would become,” he said. “And I’m afraid I am not as brave as I was. I value my skin a little too much to betray the Emperor openly. Not when I have other Sith already coming for me. And –“

He sucked in a sharp breath, pressing his hand to his heart.

“It seems overtaxing ourselves is a family trait,” Vyme said. “I’m not long for this world, Caibos. Better to do what I can do where I still have some power.”

“Ironic,” Caibos said. He meant to say why, to twist the verbal knife so Vyme would know just how much his words stung, but his voice failed him. Vyme just smiled bitterly.

“Oh, little brother, I know,” he said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, the voices in my head are mocking me for caring about a Jedi, so I’d like to go back to my ship and dunk myself in cold water until I’m numb.”

“Caibos?” Felix said quietly. “Orders?”

“Let him go,” Caibos said. Vyme sealed his mask back on and pulled up his hood, but Caibos could still picture that wry, sad smile in his mind. It was the clearest image he’d had of Vyme since he left the Empire. “We have to help Caloma.”

“I don’t like it,” Zenith said, though he followed Caibos as he said it. “Just because he’s your brother –“

“Hey, Zenith? Let it go,” Felix said. “You ok, kid?”

“I’m fine,” Caibos said. Nadia had been hanging back, ever since he brushed her off. He reached his hand out, twitching his fingers in a gentle invitation. She smiled back at him and took his hand. He knew they were all watching him closely, waiting for a reaction or an explanation, but it felt a little less terrifying now.

“You heard the story,” he said quietly. “Which I assume is why you’re all looking at me like that. I can tell it when we’re on the ship, so Qyzen and Tharan can hear. I’d… rather not let the Senators know.”

“To be fair, they do already know you’ve got Sith family,” Felix said. When Caibos didn’t laugh, he coughed.

“Sorry,” he said.

“No, it’s fine. It should be funny.”

“Nothing’s funny when you get hit with something like that,” Felix said. “Thirteen years, huh?”

“I would prefer not to discuss it,” Caibos said rigidly. He pretended not to see the looks Felix and Nadia exchanged.

On the ship, ignoring the curiosity of the Rift Alliance, Caibos gathered his crew into the engine room. The thrum of it usually put him ill at-ease, but today nothing could unsettle him more than Vyme had.

“I… It’s no secret,” Caibos said uneasily. “That I am… of Sith heritage. My mother was a human slave. My father wanted nothing to do with us, and hoped we would not prove Force sensitive so he could continue to ignore us. I don’t – remember him. Caloma does. She was my brother’s best friend.”

None of his friends spoke, though Tharan and Qyzen were visibly confused.

“I did not realise my brother was the one who contacted me,” Caibos said. “I went expecting any other Sith. I thought – To tell the truth, I have thought very little about him. I haven’t seen him since I was five. I suppose the only reason I’ve seen him now is that he still cares for Caloma’s well-being.”

“If what he said is true,” Zenith said.

“She’s missing,” Caibos said. He took pity on Qyzen and Tharan and hastily explained what Vyme had told them about Caloma.

“Surely if she was to cross paths with the Emperor himself, the Jedi would know about it?” Tharan said.

“I intend to ask,” Caibos said. “I – I am sorry I’ve kept this from you. I thought it would never matter.”

“It still doesn’t,” Nadia said. “You don’t know him. We all know where you’re from. All we have to worry about is how we’ll help your sister.”

Caibos smiled weakly.

“Thank you,” he said. “All of you.”

[reconstructionlegacy]

Theron: I'm not “culturally Jedi.”

Msr. Brider Surriss, Barsen’thor: When someone told you they were your father, did you or did you not say you were sorry they were struggling with this emotionally but that it was nothing to do with you?

Theron:

Theron: I don't like it, but that's a point.

[lanabenikosdoormat]

Wrath

Barsen’thor

Cipher Nine

[aeskanera]

Rakiya Ighazi

Jedi Consular, she/her

“There is no passion, there is serenity”

Themes:

What the role of a peacekeeper becomes during a war

The contributions of our actions to the fate of the universe around us

Coming face to face with the casualties of war

Compromise

The role of trust in politics and diplomacy

Motifs:

Green - nature, healing, relaxation

Lozenge/Rhombus/Diamond - mysticism, fertility, connection, femininity

Wood - life, growth, flexibility, benevolence, cooperation

[abysskeeper]

A soft glow emanated from the holocron hovering in her palm while it activated, the mechanisms within sliding into place as it resonated with the Force flowing from her. The power exuding from the small artifact was, paradoxically, as comforting in its familiarity as it was disconcerting in its strangeness. Then again, she expected nothing less.

The holocron belonged to her once. It was Barsen’thor’s.

Commission by the wonderful Icezimy on DA! Sometimes you just get an idea in your head, and sometimes an artist can just bring it to life better than you imagined.

[swtorpadawan]

SWTORpadawan Headcanon: The Unforgiven

There are several passing references in the game to what happened on Tython during the five-year gap in Knights of the Fallen Empire. Right out of the gate, Lana specifically informs the Outlander that the Jedi Order took devastating casualties during the war and doesn’t know anything about any surviving leadership. The romanced Nadia Grell letter specifically mentions the attack on Tython, while Kira concludes her own letter by informing us that the Jedi Order was “dying”.

Much later, of course, we meet the Jedi who evacuated to Ossus in Jedi Under Siege, who are completely unaware of everything that’s happened around the galaxy in the past five or six years.       

The conclusion we come to is that the Zakuulans attacked Tython, and some of the Jedi escaped to Ossus. (Even bringing some of the Kalikori villagers along with them.)

In my Halcyon Legacy Storyline, I’ve featured this largely unchronicled event in a couple of short stories: This Moment and How We Came to This Point. We have almost no “canon” details about it, although from what we see later on Ossus, it is clear that some or all of the Kalikori villagers went with the evacuees. (In my story, this was a minority of the Twi’leks who chose to join the exile, and Kalikori Village still stands on Tython.)

But let me expand on all that: One head-canon I have is that when the Jedi were preparing for the attack and their evacuation, they realized that they would need several defense teams to slow the Zakuulans down. A sort of “rear guard” if you will. Given their experiences with the Eternal Empire up to that point, they knew that losses to these special groups would be extremely heavy, assuming any of those Jedi made it off Tython at all.

One of these combat teams of volunteers (one that formed organically rather than by design) was made up entirely of Force-users who had experienced the touch of darkness in their respective pasts. Each of them carried a degree of responsibility and guilt for the circumstances of their lives. That didn’t mean they didn’t believe in the Jedi Order and their precepts; on the contrary, most of them were quite grateful to the order for their help. But individually, each of them came to the conclusion that if the Order was to begin anew, they would need to save as many Jedi of all ranks as they could, even at the cost of their own lives.

At the suggestion of one of their members, the group would call themselves ‘the Unforgiven’.

When the remaining members of the Jedi Council – Archivist Gnost-Dural and Barsen’thor Ulannium Kaarz – protested that it went against every principle the Jedi held dear to place individuals at risk of being sacrificed on the basis of their past experiences. The nominal leader of the Unforgiven – one Bengel Morr –countered that they weren’t seeking forgiveness from the Council or the Order; they were thankful they had already been given that. Rather, they were seeking to forgive themselves.

The Council still objected to the name but under the circumstances, they could not deny the group’s right to fight for the Order.  

As the might of the Eternal Empire descended upon Tython, the Unforgiven held the line. Every time it appeared the Knights of Zakuul and their legions of Skytroopers would break through and turn the retreat into a massacre, the Unforgiven were there, forcing the Eternal Empire to pay for every inch and making sure that as many Jedi as possible were saved.

In the aftermath of the exodus, in recognition of their sacrifice, Gnost-Dural vowed that the courage of the Unforgiven would forever be remembered in the Jedi Archives.

Without further ado, I present the Unforgiven.

Master Surro and the two survivors of the Seventh Line. We first encounter Master Surro and the Seventh Line on Ziost. [There’s a whole bunch about the Seventh Line that I find controversial, including whether or not Satele Shan and the Council even knew about them and what they were doing on Ziost. Instead, we only hear about them from Theron or Lana, even if we are playing a Jedi Master sitting on the Council.] Nevertheless, Vitiate’s possession of Surro and the others was one of the best subplots of the Rise of the Emperor story. Naturally, during my playthrough with Corellan Halcyon, he spared Surro (despite Lana’s protests) and the two other unnamed Seventh Line members, as well. (They couldn’t have given them names???) In the months that followed, Surro and the others were treated with kindness by the Jedi, but when the Eternal Empire appeared poised to strike at Tython, remembering the harm they had done on Ziost under Vitiate’s influence, they were among the first to volunteer for the defense teams.

Among the Unforgiven, they would be among the first to die during the retreat, covering the final withdrawal from the Temple.

[Tagging @swtorramblings and @starknstarwars ]

Fortris Gall.  Seventeen years before the fall of Tython, Fortris Gall had been an impressive young Jedi Knight during the closing days of the First Great Galactic War. A hero during the first battle of Balmorra, Gall bitterly opposed the conditions of the Treaty of Coruscant. Joining a conspiracy led by Master Dar’nala, Gall took part in the bombing of the Galactic Senate on Coruscant in an effort to vacate the Treaty by blaming the Sith for the act of terrorism. After a fateful encounter on Dantooine with Satele Shan, Darth Baras and Darth Angral, Gall realized the extent of his error, abandoning Dar’nala to her fate.  

Gall understood that if he returned to the Jedi and the Republic, he would be held responsible for his crimes. Unable to face his former Master – the legendary Orgus Din, who sat on the Jedi Council, Gall withdrew into the Outer Rim. There, far from the frontline galactic conflicts, he rediscovered what it meant to be a Jedi in his own way, helping isolated colonies to resist attacks by pirates and slavers.

He eventually found a measure of peace.

When the Eternal Empire began its campaign against the known galaxy, Gall initially declined to get involved. He was well aware of his own legacy and was worried that he would repeat his mistakes.

But when he heard that Orgus Din had been slain years before while fighting Darth Angral at the start of the Second Galactic War, Gall realized he had to make peace with his time as part of the Jedi Order. He arrived on Tython mere days before the attack, and – after meeting with Bengel Morr, another former apprentice of Din’s – immediately joined the Unforgiven. During the fighting, he bravely felled three Zakuulan Walkers single-handedly with his twin lightsabers before finally being cut down by an Exarch.

Fashk. Growing up, the Flesh Raider known as Fashk always knew he was different from most of his people. He saw things that they didn’t. Felt things that they didn’t. Eventually, during the Flesh Raider uprising of 10 ATC, he realized he shared the gifts of the hated Jedaii. Desperate to earn his place with the Order and learning that they had recently begun supporting the Kalikori villagers, Fashk abducted a young Twi’lek named Viyo Kobbeth. This led him to the attention of a talented Padawan on Tython in Corellan Halcyon, who sought to rescue the pilgrim. Despite the severe nature of the situation, Corellan agreed to support Fashk’s introduction into the Order. At last, he would become a mighty hunter.

The next few years were difficult for Fashk. Although he was talented in the Force, denying his own aggression went against every instinct that had been ingrained in him as a Flesh Raider, both genetic and cultural. Nevertheless, he managed not to attack any of his fellow trainees, so he maintained his place with the Jedi, tentative though it was.

Finally given the chance to see combat on the world of his birth, Fashk was quick to volunteer for the toughest combat assignment available to cover the evacuation, and that meant the Unforgiven.

During the attack, the Flesh Raider lashed out with the Force with a ferocity that startled the Zakuulans, briefly driving them back and buying the Jedi precious moments.

Fashk was never happier than in the last moment of his life.

Loyat. Loyat was a life-long Sith, trained on Korriban and apprenticed to Darth Arho, a Dark Councilor and Loyat’s eventual lover. Later as a Sith Lord, Loyat fought under Arho’s command during the Battle of Ilum. Abandoned by her master during a Republic counterattack, Loyat was defeated and captured by Corellan Halcyon and Kira Carsen. Realizing that everything Arho had taught her had ultimately been a lie, she abandoned the teachings of the Sith. After a relatively short time in a Republic prison, Loyat – at Corellan’s recommendation – was sent to Tython to begin her recovery and possible training as a Jedi, should she accept it.

Although grateful for the chance to work through her trauma, Loyat struggled to fully embrace the Jedi path. Her emotions were too close to the surface for her to make that commitment. When the Eternal Empire was poised to attack Tython, the Jedi were prepared to designate Loyat as a dependent and prioritize her evacuation. Partially out of gratitude and partially out of pride, Loyat insisted on joining the defensive combat teams. Knowing her history with Corellan on Ilum, Bengel Morr recommended her for the Unforgiven.

Loyat fought bravely against the Zakuulans, destroying dozens of Skytroopers until she was eventually knocked unconscious in an artillery explosion from an Eternal Empire walker as the Unforgiven fell back.

Loyat was officially listed as “Missing – Presumed Killed” in the Jedi Order’s after-action report. After all, it seems implausible to believe she could have survived…  

[Author’s Note: Tagging Loyat’s #1 fan girl, @raven-of-domain-kwaad as well as @alexsrandomramblings ]

Sajar. Once a member of the Dark Council years ago before his defeat at Tol Braga’s hands, the path to redemption has been a long one for Sajar who faced numerous setbacks over the years. His lapse on Quesh while commanding Republic troops led to him executing several prisoners of war and led to a fateful encounter between the Hero of Tython, Corellan Halcyon, and the Emperor’s Wrath, Lord Scourge.

Sajar spent years recovering from his ordeal on Quesh determined not to falter again. When he heard that Tol Braga, who had been his master, had succumbed to the Emperor’s mind control techniques, it led to another crisis of faith, this time leaving him catatonic for a time. While in this state, Sajar experienced several Force-visions involving Corellan Halcyon.

Although he again recovered, word that Halcyon had been killed aboard Darth Marr’s flagship darkened his mood. When it was clear the Zakuulan’s attack on Tython was imminent, he was among the first to volunteer for the combat teams.

During the fighting, the Unforgiven were briefly at risk of being encircled, which would have allowed the Eternal Empire to bypass their defense and strike at the Jedi ships as they lifted off planet. Recognizing that the Order’s survival meant far more to him than the inner peace of a single faltering Jedi, Sajar reached out to the Dark Side and embraced the power that had once been his as one of the most powerful Sith in the galaxy. The Zakuulans, unprepared to face the tactical challenge of a potent Sith amongst the Jedi, were briefly stunned. As he unleashed a fearsome storm of lightning against the Knights of Zakuul, the last three survivors of his team were able to pull back and continue the fight, allowing the last of the evacuation ships to escape.

In the final seconds of his life, Sajar received the gift of one final vision from the Force. With tears trailing down his cheeks, he let out a cry of laughter as he saw that Corellan Halcyon had not only survived but that he would one day meet with the survivors of Tython, many of whom would owe their lives to Sajar.

Sajar did not die as a Jedi, but his sacrifice allowed many other Jedi to live.    

[Author’s Note: Special thanks to @taraum for the bit about Sajar having visions concerning Corellan’s future, as that concept was shamelessly pilfered from her amazing Motivations story that you should definitely go read. Also tagging @shabre-legacy ]

Ako Domi. A hero during the First Great Galactic War, Domi was captured by the Sith Empire during the Battle of Sullust, a conflict that earned him a legendary status in the Republic. Imprisoned at Shadow Town on Nar Shaddaa, Domi was subjected to horrific torments, and watching his fellow prisoners turn on each other eventually broke him. Now a Sith, Domi and his apprentices would eventually encounter Corellan Halcyon and Kira Carsen years later during the Power Guard Crisis. The two Jedi defeated the Sith, but Corellan refused to strike the killing blow on the former Jedi, instead insisting instead that Domi be sent to Tython in an attempt to recover his humanity. (Satele Shan later would commend Corellan for his decision, though predictably Jaric Kaedan would not.)

Domi’s return to the Jedi path was a slow and arduous one. Part of him embraced the familiarity of the Order and its teachings. But with the guilt with everything he had done, of the lives he had destroyed in Shadow Town, it took him years before he could trust himself to hold a lightsaber again.

But recover he did. Just in time to meet the Zakuulan invasion.

It was Ako Domi who dubbed the defense team ‘the Unforgiven’. None of the other members objected.

As the battle of Tython waged on, no one fought with greater zeal and determination than Domi. For a few hours, he was once again the Hero of Sullust, fighting in a hopeless battle.

He was one of just three Jedi left still fighting at the end.

Domi gave his life to allow Bengel Morr and Nalen Raloch a few fleeting moments to fall back to their last defensive trench, where they reported their status to the evacuation fleet in the final transmission from Tython.

Bengel Morr. Another former padawan of Jedi Master Orgus Din, Bengel Morr was traumatized by the destruction of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant during the Sack at the end of the last war. Withdrawing from the Order and the Force, Morr spent years navigating the galaxy’s criminal underworld, learning the ways of power. A decade of preparation later, he reemerged on Tython with an apprentice, determined to destroy the Jedi Order by controlling the Flesh Raiders.

Morr’s defeat at Corellan Halcyon’s hands at the end of the uprising was a revelation to him. In that moment at the Forge, he saw the true future of the Jedi, and he finally understood his own role to play in that destiny.

In the weeks that followed under the care of the Masters of Tython, Morr slowly started to recover. With his pain eased, he started to remember his old self. Bengel realized what he had done, and was left guilt-ridden, even more so when he learned of the death of Orgus Din at the hands of Darth Angral. But the consoling messages he received from Corellan helped ease his suffering, and by the Battle of Corellia, the short-handed Jedi were willing to send the recovered Nautolan into battle.

Morr distinguished himself during the fighting against the Sith, though witnessing the horrors of war first-hand once again raised the specters of Coruscant in the dark corners of his mind. Sensing his unease, the Masters allowed him to return to Tython as part of a training cadre; one that included Nalen Raloch, formerly of Kalikori Village. The very people who Morr had tormented during the Flesh Raider uprising he led.

Facing Nalen Raloch and his resentment on a daily basis proved to be one of the greatest challenges of Bengel’s life. The Twi’lek harbored considerable hatred towards the Nautolan for everything the pilgrims of his village had endured.

It took years for Bengel to earn Nalen’s trust and respect. But in the process, Bengel made peace with some of his own demons. The two became close friends.

The training cadre missed the fighting on Tython during the Sith Empire’s assault on the Temple before the Revanite Crisis as they were hundreds of kilometers away on a survey mission scouting the Flesh Raiders. A year later when it became clear that the Zakuulans intended to attack Tython, Bengel – who had endured two sackings of Jedi Temples – vowed he would not allow a third.

The Unforgiven were born, with Bengel as their nominal leader. And on Tython, Bengel Morr finally met his destiny, making peace with his past.

Nalen Raloch. Nalen Raloch had always been a protector. When the Kalikori pilgrims were driven from Ryloth, he protected them from their orthodox Twi’lek persecutors as a young warrior. After they settled on Tython, he emerged as his village’s champion, holding off the predators in the Flesh Raiders and other indigenous species.

But serving as a protector is a double-edged sword for every being; when he found the holocron of Rajivari, Raloch was seduced by the promise of power he needed to defend his people, and in the promise of striking back at the Jedi who had ignored his peoples’ suffering for all their posturing assertion of moral superiority.

It was only after his confrontation with a talented young Mirialan padawan named Ulannium Kaarz that Nalen realized that everything he was trying to do to protect his people would have led to their destruction had he not been stopped.

Nalen, under the care of the Jedi, slowly began to rebuild his life and his sense of identity.

He came to see the value in defending not just his own people, but all people. He came to understand that he could be a protector without letting that consume him.

When he was confronted with training beside the man who had led the Flesh Raider uprising, he was beyond disgusted. He nearly quit the Jedi on the spot.

But as time went on, he began to see Bengel’s compassion. His dedication. His commitment not only to the Jedi but to his own redemption for his actions.

Nalen would learn more from Bengel than he’d learned from anyone.

When Bengel volunteered to lead one of the defense teams, Nalen didn’t hesitate to join him, despite knowing the likely outcome.

During the Battle of Tython, Nalen fought hard, but he found himself increasingly distracted. As the Eternal Empire fell upon the Jedi home world, he was terrified that the Zakuulans would turn their eyes towards Kalikori Village, knowing that his people would have been wiped out had they sent even a handful of Skytroopers in that direction.

Had Bengel not been by his side, he would have abandoned the Jedi and returned to his old home in a desperate attempt to save his fellow Twi’leks.

As it stood, Nalen and Bengel were the last two living document Jedi on Tython. In the final message from the retreating Order, Ulannium, now a master on the Jedi council, exchanged kind words. The Barsen’thor further revealed that the Zakuulans had bypassed Kalikori Village, much to Nalen’s relief.

Nalen and Bengel were alone.

Before the end, the two exchanged a fleeting moment. They acknowledged the possibility of what might have been between them in another life.

Nalen had found what he had sought for so long; the strength he’d needed to defend his people.

@grandninjamasterren @swtorhub

Thanks for reading.

[kemendin]

Now that I’ve finished the Consular story, some Vanirr ramblings as I try to get a proper handle on his character….

He and Caspian were on Tython together as Padawans, though Vanirr was a couple of years older. Where Cas was stubborn and struggled with some aspects of being a Jedi, Vanirr was a natural, taking easily to the Order’s philosophies of tranquility and detachment. And it wasn’t just that it worked for him - even as a Padawan he had a deep-thinking mind, and he understood what was being taught on levels that usually took many more years of study.

Consequently, he and Cas did not get along well - not exactly rivals or adversaries, but Vanirr tends to be very preachy and ready with Jedi aphorisms, which didn’t mesh well at all with Cas’ logical mind and inability to remain calm or passive. You know that episode of DS9 with Sisko and his Vulcan rival at the academy? Take out the deliberate heckling/antagonism, and that’s Cas and Vanirr.

On the surface, Vanirr is a paragon of the Order - tempered and calm, skilfully using words to negotiate and mediate, steeped in wisdom from endless hours in the Jedi archives, always seeking to help and to learn. He is a veritable beacon of the light side. While trained as a ‘Shadow’, when he moves unseen and undetected, it’s actually because he’s melded with the light - he can either radiate or become a part of the whole, depending on the situation.

Unfortunately, this is where the expression ‘blinded by the light’ becomes painfully apt. Vanirr develops a sort of unknowing arrogance, fuelled by both the Jedi’s affirmations of his virtues and his own successes through the class story, shielding and sanctifying those corrupted by the dark side. He comes to believe that this is his calling - to purge the darkness from whatever place or person he can. And if he has to kill someone to do it - well, all things have their time, don’t they? He’s just causing that time to arrive a little sooner.

His weakness is for knowledge, for relics and holocrons. In his blind devotion to the light, he believes that even the darkest of Sith secrets can find no hold on him, if he stands true to the Jedi ways. Ultimately, this is what does him in, and causes him to fall prey to Darth Syphon, Head of Ancient Knowledge on the Dark Council. Syphon lures him with the promise of such secrets, captures him, corrupts him, and the fabled Barsen’thor falls. Cas encounters him at some point thereafter, and there’s such irony there - that this Master of the light side should be so deeply tainted, should succumb to the dark, when the Knight who faced the Emperor himself, who still feels that shadow inside him, did not fall. I’m not sure yet what the outcome of that encounter is - if Cas kills Vanirr, or tries to save him and brings him back to the Jedi to see if they can help.

Buuuut that’s a ways off in my brain. Meanwhile, I’m trying to figure out Vanirr’s personal life. He’s told me that he ends up with two partners, in one sense or another - Nadia and Felix. It’s hard to define his relationship with Nadia - he’s her mentor of course, but there’s also a deeper bond that veers almost into romance, yet not quite. It’s not a sexual relationship at all, and barely even physical, aside from some fond kisses here and there. Felix, on the other hand, is a much more casual relationship, less attachment, more ‘comradery with a side of occasionally sleeping together’. I’ve actually never had a poly OC before, so this is interesting to mull over.

Anyway. That's what I've got for this lad right now!